When Styles and Lydia left I wore my mother's bracelet, because I was still afraid of my grandmother, beyond the fact that she was dead and she could only torment poor Banshees. I took my coffee and went back to the window, I was in desperate need of fresh air. It was weird that Frida wanted me so badly to wear that bracelet that she went into that much trouble to pass me that massage but the more weird part was how clear that massage was Frida loved riddles she never said what she wanted me to do plain and simple and passing that massage so clear was not only uncharacteristic of her it was also difficult passing a massage via a Banshee is hard and complicated. Passing a massage that clear is borderline impossible.
I looked down on my wrist at the bright red beads and then a smell came to my nostrils, humans nobody I knew run back to the living room and went straight to the couch, I kept all my guns on the truck of my car but my paranoia made me hide weapons in every corner of the house not being sure if it was a good thing or not that my paranoia eventually paid off I fished the large sheath knife I had hidden under the couch and I walked to the door, careful not to make any sound.
Standing in front of the door I could smell three different scents. I stood still listening, someone was trying to pick the lock. I took my place leaning to the wall estimating the distance I needed so the door won't be in front of me when they opened. I had the advantage I knew they were here and there was no need to panic but despite that I felt my heart beat rising.
All I had to do now was wait and be calm so that's what I did I waited breathing calmly and holding the knife close to my chest. I had to be calm, picture what I have to do, be prepared to do it and don't hesitate to do it. If I wasn't calm if I want prepared or if I hesitated even for a moment I was dead and I refused to die by like that.
I closed my eyes and I took deep breath visualizing what I was going to do, I opened my eyes to the weak sound of the lock giving up. When the door opened I was calm, prepared the door opened one man walked inside my apartment then another one behind him and then the last one, all three of them dressed in black, wearing the same outfit the men that broke into Derek's loft. The walked inside my apartment with their guns raised.
They knew how to be soundless but so did I. I left my spot next to the door and I slipped behind the last one that walked in. I gripped him by the forehead before he had the chance to react and I inserted the knife in the base of his skull with one fast move, his body went limp and I grabbed him before he collapsed I placed his body on the floor and I grabbed his gun. I pulled the trigger of the dead man's gun twice, one bullet ripped into one man's shoulder and the other punch a hole on the other man's neck he raised his hands to hold his throat and then he fell face first on the floor.
The guy who took the shot on his shoulder didn't took long to react but it was long enough for me, before he had the chance to turn around I aimed and fired twice one bullet on each knee he fell to the floor cursing I rushed to him and kicked his gun away.
Someone walked behind me I turned around rising the gun to the new intruder "it's me" Derek said and I realized a breath I didn't even know I was holding "it's me" he said again I realized I was still pointing the gun at him I let it fall, the impact of what really happened started to replaying on my mind as the adrenaline was starting to subside.
"Are you okay?" Derek asked grabbing me by both arms
"I'm fine" I winced because he was squeezing the old bullet wound I had I had on my arm
"are you hurt?" his eyes were shining bright blue.
"I'm fine" I said again
"are you shure?" he asked again looking me in the eyes
"I'm okay" I didn't want to tell him he was hurting me but he realized it himself and he immediately let go of me
"I'm sorry" his eyes were still shining blue
Some people call those eyes the eyes of a killer but they are not. Those eyes are the eyes of regret, they say taking an innocent life lives a stain on your soul, but I don't believe it. Who can define who is and isn't innocent after all. It's not only the act of taking a life, it is also the remorse, the guilt that leaves that mark on your soul, the guilt and the remorse makes the eyes turn from warm golden to ice blue.
I quit paying attention his eyes when I heard a groan. I grabbed my knife from where I had left it fall.
I wasn't angry, I wasn't afraid, I was calm. I kneeled before the injured man and I grabbed a handful of his hair to make him look at me "who send you" I asked him, he groaned
He looked young he couldn't be more than two years older than me. I couldn't even imagine the brain wash the Brotherhood did to him, he probably believe that killing me would make him a hero. I wasn't angry at him he was just a kid who believed a story I was angry with Wegman who brainwashed all those people who made them believe that we were the monsters. Last night I was afraid of him and all the night before this one I was shaking on the idea of him now I was angry now I prayed he found me I hoped he was there when they got me because I was going to die but I was going to take him with me "I'm going to ask you some questions" I felt the smile forming in my lips, it was involuntary but I didn't make any attempt to hide it. "I just want some answers".